


Checkmate

by fandom_oracle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Technically gen but can be read as romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 01:52:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15256803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_oracle/pseuds/fandom_oracle
Summary: They both knew how to play games, especially with each other.





	Checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language and this is terrible, forgive me

It’s cold. Of course it’s cold, it’s December in Europe, and the chilly air of Paris at night could get as low as four degrees (Celsius, as he was finally starting to get used to), and the Californian boy’s bones felt almost frail, despite the comfortable winter clothes that were to him given.

The apartment’s lights were dimly lit, and Isaac could only lay in a corner and pace, expecting the discomfort to pass. He couldn’t do anything until it did, and so he walked, caring little if the floor creaked under his feet, only interrupted from the senseless marching by the sound of rusty door hinges moving at the other end of what could’ve been considered a luxurious home, were it not for the austere tastes of the Argents.

Isaac could not see the man from the end of what he supposed was now his room, but he could smell it. The pine scented cologne and its distinctively American aroma, unlike the perfumes he found on Frenchmen in the rare times he went out. Subdued, but still there were specific brands of deodorant and shaving cream, creating a combination that was distinctively _Chis_.

He could smell other things too. The fragrance of the crêpes of Montparnasse, the rotting smell of the _Père Lachaise_ , the mace and oregano of the moroccan regions of Saint-Denis, and the pungent sewer smell of anyone who stayed in a large city for a long time. These almost drowned out the signals of stress, anger, sadness, and relief, all fighting for space in Chris Argent’s compact self.

Isaac’s first instinct was hide. And he probably wouldn’t have followed through with them if a part of his mind didn’t think he had reason to. He had refused to let himself be a broken porcelain doll for Scott McCall to fix, and he certainly didn’t want to be that for a strange man whose intentions he couldn’t quite understand and whom Isaac didn’t fully understand why he decided to follow to a foreign country.

But sometimes his instincts, built from years of living in the Lahey household, took over, and he couldn’t stop himself. He shouldn’t stop himself. He needed to be gone, he shouldn’t be here. Chris would find out. And Chris would be upset. And Chris was dealing with enough as it is... And Chris...

His train of thought was interrupted as a still, emotionless voice belonging to nothing but a tired man far too used to pretending he’s not exhausted from merely existing, called his name.

“Isaac?”

It was only then that the boy fully adjusted to his surroundings. He’d cornered himself on a strategically placed chiffonier, squeezing himself between it and the wall in a way that a casual observer, looking over from the room’s door, wouldn’t be able to see him. Slowly lifting himself, he hesitantly walked towards the hallway, where a weary Chris Argent looked at him absent-mindedly, as if not truly seeing him at all.

“We’re going to have to do the groceries tomorrow” the man said

There they were. The words were simple, and spoken without any deeper tone to it, but every single one of them added another layer of dread to Isaac’s clothing, as if the fear drowned out the cold and replaced it with something much worse. At the end of the sentence, and against his better judgment, Isaac gasped.

It was as if the man were finally looking at him as more than a background element.

“Isaac, have you been... crying?” Chris’ face expressed plain confusion, but no hints of disgust, or mockery, or, worst of all, disinterest. Somehow, the blonde could and did consider all those options as possibilities.

“Are you alright?” The confusion had been replaced with concern at this point, and he could only applaud the man for having the ability to care for anything after Allison. Especially him.

He didn’t want to reply. One half of him wanted to run, and the other wanted to tear Argent to pieces. Neither of them were clever choices, and Isaac’s human reasoning kept him in check. But that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about anything with the man.

 _I’m not your school project_ , he remembered thinking these words, directed at Scott McCall.

 _I’m not your daughter_ , he thought now. _And I’m not your ticket to guilt-free-land._

But upsetting Chris Argent wasn’t a good idea. And he truly didn’t have any idea what would be best. Should he keep his dignity and relay a factual account of events? Should he ask for forgiveness? He knew how to play the game with his father, and he knew how to play it with Melissa. The hunter was, to him, still a mystery.

“I finished all the food. I tried cooking for myself but the first attempt kind of ended up... burnt. So I tried until I got it right. And I ended up accidentally using almost everything” He tried to relay as factually as he could, in a deadpan tone, figuring the man wasn’t very appreciative of emotional displays.

Chris looked confused.

“That’s fine, I’ll just drop by the market tomorrow. But seriously, why are you crying?” Was it a joke to him? Was the hunter mocking him?

“I would’ve replaced it if I could but I have no money and I don’t speak any french and I... I’m sorry” The boy’s speech faltered as he almost unconsciously switched tactics, his eyes swelling up all over again.

 _No_ , he forced the words into his mind. _I’m not going to play sad puppy for anyone._

But he couldn’t control himself, as his chin, already shivering from the cold, began to quiver and lose strength, and he tried to bite his lip for the faintest hint of control.

Chris looked nothing but horrified.

**

It lasted a second at most, as the realization of the fact that Isaac was, indeed, treated nothing short of abusively in childhood finally settled in. Of course he knew that; Allison had told him multiple times that Isaac had a complicated relationship with his father, but she never told him any of the details. The hunter had no reason to assume Isaac’s childhood had consisted of a series of gaslighting, guilt-tripping, and emotional abusive. He almost didn’t want to know if it ever got physical.

The truth is, it made sense now. Every behavior of Isaac’s that Chris might’ve normally found odd but didn’t have the motivation to put together, dealing with his own issues. The boy’s reluctance to talk about his family or his background, the constant twitching, as if he’d expect Chris to hurt him every second. The way he always backed down one or two steps when the older man had begun talking. He didn’t make noise and he never made a mess. For a boy of Isaac’s personality, that should’ve seemed strange.

He didn’t have many talents, as he hadn’t been resided to have them, really. His childhood was a constant reminder of Kate’s importance as the next Argent matriarch. She was supposed to be intelligent, decisive, ambitious, resilient. He was just supposed to live long enough to ensure she got to be that.

But the one talent he did have was compartmentalizing things. And if Isaac needed consolation, Chris Argent was more than capable of pushing his grief to the lowermost corners of his mind. Or, at very least, make it seem like he was.

“Isaac” He started calmly. Dealing with the boy had never been very different from dealing with a dog. “What made you feel you were responsible for replacing the groceries here?”

“I’m not?”

“No, Isaac, you’re not. You have no income, and I knew you had no income when I decided to take you in” The shorter man continued, making his way towards Isaac as languidly as possible “It wouldn’t be logical for me to expect you to contribute financially to our expenses in any way”

Logic might not have been the best choice, the older one realized, as Isaac’s eyes started swelling up, clearly against the blonde’s will. Reminding Isaac that his feelings were illogical was only going to make the boy feel worse. If Chris was going to play this game, he’d have to be far more careful. Perhaps even...

“But it’s nice that you thought of replacing things” He said, trying to flash a smile. “I appreciate that you don’t wish to be a burden. However, I can assure you, you’re not one. I chose to take you in”

Isaac was only going to feel safe as long as he felt he was pleasing him; the hunter figured those were the conditions of his safety in the Lahey household. Chris had decided to make that his play, managing to temporarily soothe Isaac by tugging on his least healthy instincts. He just didn’t expect the boy to notice what he’s doing.

“...Because of Allison” The soft voice turned accusatory, and it was clear what the blonde was doing: trying to upset him. Trying to stir a reaction, testing how far Chris was willing to extend his kindness. Isaac was more intelligent than his rival player assumed him to be.

“No” He replies, after the right amount of time; an immediate response would seem defensive, too long an answer and he’d seem hesitant. “I took you in because you clearly needed someone to take you in, and because your connection to Allison made it so I knew you and trusted you enough”

“So you’d have taken anyone else? What if Stilinski had lost his bum of a father? Would he be here?”

“Stiles has a pack, in a way” Chris replied, understanding that Isaac’s play went deeper than just trying to rile him up. No, what the boy wanted was an admission of selfishness. He wanted to know that he was performing a service for the older man. He wanted all his fears to be confirmed: that his stay there was conditional and that if he stopped serving a purpose, he’d be worthless to Argent.

And the truth is, he couldn’t tell Isaac his fears were wrong.

The blonde left him with two choices: admit his egotistical motivations for taking him in and ensure Isaac would be justified in never feeling safe again, or denying Isaac his satisfaction, upsetting the boy in the process and making him feel just as unsafe.

There was only really one option: letting the boy know that he was aware of the game he was playing, and that he was playing it too.

“You don’t have to do this, Isaac” Chris said, weariness seeping through his voice. It wasn’t an involuntary reaction, but rather, a deliberate move, again. If he were to believe the conversation was tiring the hunter, he’d be more likely to let go. “Trying to get me to disappoint you. Allow yourself to have this; heavens know you deserve it”

Chris knew he’d won, having toyed with the boy like a fiddle. By complimenting Isaac without directly tying his behavior to his permission to stay with him, Isaac’s attention would turn inwards. A small victory, of course, as the boy wouldn’t process the notion that he’s deserving of any kindness whatsoever in a night. But baby steps were better than stagnating, after all, and the silver-haired man smiled as he turned his back to the boy in search for the door to his room.

Before he could open it, though. Clumsy arms wrapped around him, and the weight of a body almost made Chris fall off. His head was bumping into a thin chest, and it took him a moment to process what had just happened.

“Thank you” He heard, as he wrapped his hands on the blonde curls he could barely reach.

 _Checkmate_ , he thought smugly, before returning Isaac’s display of physical affection.

 


End file.
